


A Time to Grieve

by isheth_zenunim



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isheth_zenunim/pseuds/isheth_zenunim
Summary: No prompt.  I know how the holidays are always touted as being "about family".  But some people have absolute atrocious families.  Some aren't ready to move on.  And being told you should be thankful for having one when you've lost so many is utter rot.
So have some anger and turkey legs.





	

The door slammed open and the sound of a hefty mabari scrabbling to gain traction on a hardwood floor followed. Great. It was only a matter time before-- “I can hear you pouting all the way from Lowtown.” Yep, Garrett had found him.

 

Carver pushed away the uneaten sandwich in front of him and slumped over the kitchen counter. The Templars had thought themselves to be magnanimous when they gave him the holiday off. Yet, truth be told, Carver would rather be standing in the Gallows, shivering in the pelting rain, ALONE, than be here. Here meant going to join the others in the feast. Here meant having to pretend to be happy. He had tried to excuse himself by claiming Templar duties, but his sodding brother had made it a point to steal Meredith’s roster to verify. Of course. Nosy, inconsiderate arse. “Don’t you have a turkey leg you should be shoving in your mouth right now? And could you please make sure to choke on it while you’re at it.”

 

Garrett gave a low whistle. “So catty tonight. Don’t let Anders see. He’ll try adopting you. Though if you want to prance around in a collar and curl up in his lap, I’m not one to judge.” Silence followed which apparently wasn’t the expected response. The elder brother plopped unceremoniously on the stool next to Carver and dragged the forgotten sandwich towards himself. His head tilted in bewilderment, echoing the confused expression on the mabari at his feet. “Is this just a handful of peanuts in a roll?”

 

Scowling, Carver finally looked at his brother. “Templar school doesn’t go into sandwich making. Why are you here? And why won’t you go?”

 

The “sandwich” was pushed away once more as Garrett folded his hands in his lap. It was easy to forget he was a mage when his size nearly rivaled his younger brother. Yet at the moment, he curled himself inward, looking very small and fragile. It was not the Champion the city knew; this one felt the weight of his actions and self-perceived failures.

 

Carver was unmoved. “Go back to your stupid feast, Garrett. I’m sure someone needs to peel Isabela off Sebastian’s lap again. Go. They need you.” The unspoken "I don’t need you" hung weighty in the space between brothers.

 

The elder Hawke glanced sideways, still hunkered. His voice was barely over a whisper. “We were waiting for you. I know you don’t like holidays anymore--” Garrett paused, now looking off into nothing, swallowing down some hidden pain. “Because of… but we’re supposed to be together for these sorts of things.”

 

Hissing, Carver stood and stalked away, knocking various pans and pots off shelves, needing the noise to echo his anger. “WHY? Because we’re supposed to be one big happy fucking family, BROTHER? All two of us that still live?” The mabari grumbled in the background and Carver angrily conceded. “Two and a half of us? And so now we’re supposed to go on like nothing has happened, make a family out of whoever is willing to put up with your shit, and move on? I’m so glad you can but I sure as Maker know I can’t. I need my family back but they are never coming back. Fuck off to your sodding party and pretend like nothing has happened. I can’t do it anymore.” Anger turned to anguish, flying out of him as he slumped against the wall. He had lashed out in the past, but this had drained him, dragged the legs out from under him. Now he just wanted to be left alone.

 

Garrett’s stool clattered to the ground as he rose, stalking over to his younger brother. The crushing guilt vanished; there was only furious tears as he stared down. “At least I fucking TRIED, Carver. When Da died, I tried to be that person for you even though I was just as scared.” He dropped to his knees and wrenched his sibling forward by the breastplate.

 

“No one fucking asked you to! No one asked you not to grieve. I had to be Da AND Bethany while you left us here to go on your bloody adventures. I had to hold Mother together and pretend like everything was okay, that we were still a Void-taken family. I couldn’t grieve, I couldn’t even fucking say my twin’s name. So don’t you DARE act like you were the only one who had to suffer. You’re all I have left but sometimes I just need more.”

 

“Carver, I--”

 

“NO.” Carver brushed off his brother’s grip and rose, needing to put some distance between them. Everything ached. He had never felt more worn out in his life. And worst of all, he knew he’d hurt Garrett. The anger agreed with the barbs while the part of him that suffered wished he could take it back. Weighed down, his arms braced him shakily against the kitchen counter. Curling up and dying seemed a good option right now.

 

Garrett’s hand rubbed soothingly over his brother’s hair just as Bethany had done. It was no jig, but it was all he could offer. “You’re right. I hate to say it, but you’re right.” He rectified the fallen stool and sat down hard, hand covering one of Carver’s as if to give him strength. “I tried to give you a family back, but never asked if you wanted them. Still, they all care for you.”

 

He nodded.

 

“But they’re not Da or Mother or Bethany. I didn’t let you grieve. There never was time and then I threw myself into being Champion and let Varric and the others fill my own ache and… I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

 

Deflated and bowed, Carver stared at the countertop, blessedly numb. “Someday. Not yet. Your heart was in the right place.” He tilted his head and gave his older brother a wilted grin. “Your head’s still up your arse, though.”

 

Punching a plate pauldron was undoubtedly a poor idea and it left Garrett hissing and shaking his reddened fist. Still, the mood lightened and the brothers sat in the comfortable silence, listening to the pouring rain outside. It was a rare truce these days and both seemed reluctant to break it. However, there was a rowdy band of misfits waiting at the Hanged Man that would require Garrett’s attention. “Well, this has been a pleasure, brother. But my public needs me.”

 

Carver gave a snort. “Bring me back a turkey leg later, Champion.”

 

“Deal.”


End file.
